


maybe we were meant to be

by artenon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airports, Alternate Reality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:05:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artenon/pseuds/artenon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A delayed flight and a serendipitous meeting.</p><p><i>He remembers thinking earlier that Kuroo seemed to fit right into his life somehow, and now he doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what to believe. The idea of fate seems too big, but coincidence is too frightening in how random it is when he thinks about how easily they might </i>not<i> have met.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe we were meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> THIS TOOK ME SO LONG WHY DID THIS TAKE SO LONG.
> 
> it's 3 AM i'm sorry i can't even think of anything to say. please enjoy, and i love you all. <3
> 
> wait i forgot [tumblr link](http://kyrandis.tumblr.com/post/107101424936) tho why would you want to look at a 9.8k fic on tumblr i don't know

“Yeah. I don’t know exactly when the next flight is leaving. They say it won’t be until tonight.” Tsukishima pulls his phone from his ear to glance at the time, as if he expects it to be a later hour than eight something-or-other in the morning when he’s been on the phone for all of five minutes. He brings it back to his ear. “I’ll message you the time later, okay? Bye.”

Tsukishima ends the call with his brother and sighs, his mood thoroughly spoiled for the day.

He considers going to ask whoever’s in charge if they’re really sure there’s nothing else to be done, but he knows it’s hopeless, and he’d rather not stumble through English sentences any more than he has to, even if his English is pretty good. He just wants to be back in Japan already.

He’ll remember later that it’s just as he’s thinking this that someone taps his shoulder and says, in Japanese, “Hello.”

Right now, though, Tsukishima’s opinion of the coincidence is less than favorable, since he’s more concerned with the fact that someone is bothering him when he’s already feeling so sour. Tsukishima and strangers don’t tend to mix even when he’s in a good mood, and so he takes a moment to steel himself mentally before he turns and finds himself face to face with a man probably around his age, with a mess of black hair and an open smile.

“I didn’t mean to listen in on your phone call,” the man says, “but I heard you speaking Japanese, so…”

Tsukishima regards him silently.

“You’re Japanese, I’m Japanese, we’re on the same delayed flight, we have a lot in common?” the man tries, smirking even though his tone is sheepish.

“We’re flying to Japan,” Tsukishima finally says. “I’m sure you could find a lot of other people here who can speak Japanese.”

“Right,” he says. “Of course.” He pauses, and then sticks his hand out. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Tsukishima repeats, because he’s bad with names unless he says them back. He tentatively takes his hand, unsure of why he’s been singled out by this man. “Tsukishima Kei.”

“So, are you going anywhere right now?” Kuroo asks, apropos of nothing.

“No,” Tsukishima says. He’s all checked out of his hotel and he has nowhere else to go. He’s stuck here until the next flight, which is God knows when.

“Me neither. So we’re both waiting it out here, then.” Kuroo waits for only a second before asking, “Do you want to get a coffee with me?”

“Are you actually hitting on me?” Tsukishima asks in disbelief. They’ve just been told that there was a problem with their plane and that the next one won’t be coming in until that night, and Kuroo is asking him to get coffee with him.

Kuroo shrugs, a smile still playing on his lips. “If you’d like. You _are_ cute.”

Tsukishima turns away in a vain attempt to hide his blush.

“Or if you wouldn’t like, I’m really just looking for some company,” Kuroo adds.

He scowls. “Fine. Let’s get coffee.”

He already had coffee with his breakfast that morning, but another cup won’t hurt, especially since now he’ll definitely have time to use the restroom before his flight (airplane bathrooms are cramped and uncomfortable, and Tsukishima avoids them if he can). That aside, he doesn’t know why he’s doing this. It’s not that Kuroo is unattractive—as far as Tsukishima can apply the word ‘attractive’ to a stranger, anyway. His hair is sticking out in such a way that Tsukishima’s honestly not sure if he spent hours getting it to look like that or if he just rolled out of bed without even bothering with a comb, but it’s not awful, really, and his face in general is handsome, his jawline strong, his amber eyes sharp, and the rest of him isn’t bad either, not that Tsukishima paid any special attention.

He also has a nice smile. Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention to that, either.

So Kuroo looks okay, whatever. But he doesn’t know what Kuroo hopes to get from this, and he doesn’t know what he’s expecting to come out of it, either. The fact that he didn’t flat-out reject Kuroo already makes this situation atypical for Tsukishima, but something about Kuroo’s disposition just seems—inviting.

That’s a peculiar thought. Tsukishima doesn’t like it.

Well, if nothing else, it’ll be a way to kill the time, he tells himself. He has a book Akaashi recommended to him months ago that he was planning on reading, but he was saving that for the flight itself, so he’ll indulge Kuroo for now.

They go to a Starbucks inside the airport, pulling their carry-on bags behind them. All the tables are full, but they get their drinks and head back to the terminal, where they find out that their new flight should definitely be leaving at around six in the evening. The flight is about eleven hours, and they’ll arrive in Japan around 10 PM the next day. Tsukishima hates time zones.

They’re also stuck here for another nine hours.

“So, what brings you out to California?” Kuroo asks when they’ve settled into a couple of seats and Tsukishima has messaged Akiteru what time he needs to pick him up. “Or what’s taking you to Japan?”

“Business trip to Silicon Valley,” Tsukishima says. “I’m flying back home.”

“Cool,” Kuroo says, and launches into his life story that Tsukishima never asked for.

Kuroo is a grad student, working toward his doctorate in philosophy. He’s been spending his winter break visiting friends in America that he made the year he studied abroad as an undergrad—he’s kept in touch with them all this time. They’re all great people. Tsukishima forgets their names about three seconds after Kuroo says them, and tries not to get caught up on trying to remember who is who because then he’ll accidentally stop paying attention to Kuroo’s stories.

“Did you ever study abroad?” Kuroo asks.

“No,” Tsukishima says, after a sip of his drink. He was always too busy with internships and other commitments. Being a computer science major just isn’t the best for studying abroad, but it’s not like he ever wanted to in the first place; he never even really considered it, except in passing when a couple of his friends decided that they wanted to study abroad.

“Hey, if I’m bothering you, I’ll back off,” Kuroo says. “I just thought, since you accepted my invitation for coffee…”

“You’re not,” Tsukishima says, after considering it for a moment. He’s chattier than Tsukishima prefers, but he’s not actually annoying him with his conversation. Anyway, Hinata’s chatty. Yamaguchi can be chatty, when he wants to. If he can get used to them, he can get used to Kuroo.

“Okay,” Kuroo says. “Just, you know, conversations are typically two-way, and you’re not really giving me much to work with here.”

Tsukishima shrugs. It’s not like his business trip was interesting or worth talking about. Kuroo gives him a pointed look, and Tsukishima thinks he realizes what he means and says, “It’s not like my business trip was interesting or worth talking about.”

“We can talk about something else.”

He shrugs again. His life just seems pretty boring compared to Kuroo’s. He catches himself and repeats his thought out loud, thinking that this is hard and that maybe he should just read his book after all. He doesn’t voice that thought.

“Nah, my life isn’t that exciting,” Kuroo says. “And even if your life isn’t particularly eventful, I’m sure you’re a lot more interesting than you give yourself credit for.”

Tsukishima snorts. “I work, I go home and work some more, and then I go to sleep.”

“Well, what do you do for fun?”

Tsukishima tries to remember the last time he wasn’t working. He wouldn’t call himself a workaholic, although Yamaguchi might (Hinata and Kageyama are both workaholics themselves, so they’ve got no room to call him names). He just doesn’t really have anything else to do, and there’s always some project or other he could be getting a head start on after he comes home from work.

“Read,” he says, although he hasn’t much lately. “Go to the bar with my friends, I guess.” Tsukishima’s not a big drinker himself, but he’ll have maybe one or two drinks and make sure his friends all get home safely.

“Oh, so you do have friends,” Kuroo says. “I was starting to wonder.”

Tsukishima glares, but it’s half-hearted, and Kuroo’s smile is encouraging.

“Tell me about them?”

Tsukishima blinks “Er, okay.”

Yamaguchi is his oldest friend, from grade school. He met his other close friends—Hinata, Kageyama, and Yachi—in high school, in volleyball club. When Kuroo hears that he played volleyball in high school, he lights up. He’s practically on the edge of his seat, looking like he wants to say something but not wanting to interrupt, so Tsukishima stops for him.

“Yes?”

While Tsukishima finishes the rest of his coffee—cold now, he forgot to drink it for a while—Kuroo happily takes the invitation to gush about how he also played in high school. It turns out that Kuroo is two years older than Tsukishima, so he would have been a third year when Tsukishima was a first year. Neither of their teams made it far enough in their respective prefectures in any tournaments that year to have faced each other.

“But what a coincidence that would have been, huh?” Kuroo asks.

“It would’ve made a good story,” Tsukishima agrees.

“I haven’t played volleyball since undergrad,” Kuroo says, wistful.

“I haven’t played since high school. Kageyama and Hinata try to get me to play with them during the off-season, but even when they’re not playing seriously there’s no way in hell I can keep up with them anymore.”

“Wait, holy shit,” Kuroo says. “You mean _that_ Kageyama and Hinata? I was wondering why those names were familiar, oh, my God, you went to Karasuno. I saw your match against Nekoma—that was my old school.”

“That’s when I was a second year,” Tsukishima says, remembering. Damn, he feels old.

“Yeah. Yeah!” Kuroo grins. “My best friend, Kenma, he was a third year. That’s why I went to see the match. You’re, like, best friends with celebrities, what the hell. Bokuto is going to be so jealous when I tell him.”

“Kenma,” Tsukishima mutters under his breath, though he’s not sure why he’s trying so hard to remember all these names. This is the first time Kuroo has mentioned a Bokuto, but this isn’t the first time Kuroo has dropped a new name without context, and Tsukishima thinks he can remember Bokuto, anyway—Akaashi’s boyfriend is also named Bokuto, although Tsukishima doesn’t know much about him, since he’s never actually met him in-person, and Akaashi doesn’t talk much about his own life.

“What?” Tsukishima says, realizing he hasn’t replied yet. “It’s not like you actually met them. Just me.”

“Close enough, okay. You could probably call them up right now if you wanted.”

“Well—” Tsukishima glances at his watch, which is still set to the time in Japan. “It’s nearly three in the morning back home, so no.”

“Can you just—not ruin this for me?” Kuroo asks, and Tsukishima lifts his eyebrows. Kuroo raises his hands in defeat. “Okay, sorry, I interrupted. Tell me more about your friends—besides the fact that two of them are fucking _famous pro volleyball players_.”

“Yeah, I’ll just announce that first to everyone I meet from now on,” Tsukishima retorts, rolling his eyes, and Kuroo grins. “What do you want to hear?”

“Anything.”

Kuroo seems genuinely curious. It makes Tsukishima wonder about him. What does he care? They’re not even going to see each other again after today. Even if today will be a very long day.

“Okay,” Tsukishima says, uncertain. “Well, Yamaguchi is…” He pauses. “He’s the coolest person I know,” he says honestly.

“That’s high praise,” Kuroo says. “I want to meet him already.”

“He might seem timid at first, and doesn’t think he’s cool at all,” Tsukishima says. “But I think you would understand what I mean.”

He’s pretty sure Kuroo would, anyway. He seems a good judge of character, except for the part where he apparently decided Tsukishima would be a good person to befriend when they ended up stranded in an airport for several hours. The point is, though, Kuroo probably wouldn’t underestimate Yamaguchi.

“Like Kenma,” Kuroo says, smiling fondly (Kenma—Kuroo’s best friend, Tsukishima reminds himself). “What about the others?”

“Well. Hinata is—” Tsukishima grimaces. “—loud. He talks a lot. You’d get along with him, I guess.”

“Are you implying I’m loud and talk a lot?”

“You definitely talk a lot, at least.”

“Bokuto is loud and talks a lot,” Kuroo muses.

Bokuto again. Tsukishima has no idea who Bokuto is, only that he shares the name of Akaashi’s boyfriend, and that he’d be jealous of Kuroo for knowing Kageyama and Hinata by association. An old teammate of Kuroo’s, maybe?

“Well, he sounds exhausting already,” Tsukishima says. “He and Hinata can talk each other’s ears off. That’ll save us the trouble of having to deal with them ourselves.”

He doesn’t know why he’s talking about these hypotheticals, as if they’ll all actually meet up sometime. Somehow, it feels like Kuroo is sliding right into place, like he just _fits_ in Tsukishima’s life somehow, and Tsukishima has to remind himself that this is just for today, and he hasn’t even known Kuroo for all that long yet, anyway. He shouldn’t be this comfortable with him.

“Kageyama’s okay,” Tsukishima says, hoping that if he ignores the strange thoughts, they’ll go away, or at least make his stomach stop twisting ( _this is just for today_ ). “I hated him when I first met him, but he just has a prickly exterior.”

“So, like you,” Kuroo interrupts.

“I have a prickly interior, too,” Tsukishima returns without missing a beat.

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Don’t test me,” Tsukishima says. “Anyway, Kageyama’s okay—” They actually get on a lot better than Tsukishima ever thought they would. “—except when he’s drunk. He’s the last person I expected to be a cuddly drunk, but he is. It’s awful.”

“Would you expect me to be a cuddly drunk?” Kuroo asks.

Tsukishima looks him over. Kuroo is currently wearing a college sweater from an American university, which is just a little baggy on him. He’s also wearing a scarf, and he keeps playing with the ends of it as they sit talking. Tsukishima doesn’t know if Kuroo would be a cuddly drunk, but he definitely looks cuddle-able right now.

That’s another thought Tsukishima is keeping to himself, no matter how much Kuroo seems to be coaxing him to open up right now.

“Sure,” he says instead, and Kuroo grins.

“Good. Because I am—though to be fair I don’t need to be drunk to be cuddly. And I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s bad when you puke on me.”

“I can hold my alcohol better than that.”

“Well, Kageyama can’t.” Tsukishima scowls. He loves Kageyama, even if he’d never say it to his face, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys taking care of him when he’s drunk. That should be Hinata’s job, except if Kageyama’s drunk, then Hinata is definitely drunk and either wreaking havoc or sleeping. There is no in between.

Tsukishima sometimes wonders how he ended up being the caretaker of his friends. At least he has Yachi to help him. When she doesn’t get drunk herself, because then she’s _boisterous_. Thinking of Yachi, though.

“Anyway, Yachi’s—” Sweet. Tough. “—great. I don’t know how she puts up with us sometimes,” he says. “I don’t know how _I_ put up with the others sometimes.”

“You love them, deep down.”

“I’ve just been stuck with them since high school. I don’t know how this happened,” Tsukishima says.

He actually doesn’t. He’s not sure why they’ve all stuck around, but he’s glad they have. Talking about his friends, even just these little bits and pieces, is making him feel horribly sappy and appreciative of them (even though he still doesn’t appreciate Kageyama puking on him), and he wishes he could blame Kuroo, but that means admitting it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell his friends how much he cares about them, but he hopes that, after all this time, they know him well enough that he doesn’t have to say it.

“Of course,” Kuroo says, knowing. “Any friends from college? Work?”

Tsukishima makes a noncommittal noise. Aside from Yamaguchi, he never had a lot of friends until high school and, after growing to care about his little friend circle in volleyball club, he was reluctant to expand it in college.

“People at work are just my co-workers. From college, I guess there’s Akaashi,” Tsukishima says.

“Hey, I know an Akaashi!” Kuroo says. “Bokuto’s boyfriend is Akaashi.”

Tsukishima stares. “Akaashi’s boyfriend is Bokuto.”

They’re both silent as the weight of it sinks in.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo says. “How have we not met before?”

“Akaashi and Bokuto went to different colleges,” Tsukishima points out.

“Yeah. I went to the same college as Bokuto for undergrad.”

“I never met Bokuto, and I don’t see Akaashi in person much anymore. We email, sometimes.”

Kuroo shakes his head slowly. “I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on you for so long.”

He can’t mean that. He can’t say a line like that and _mean_ it. And yet Kuroo honestly looks regretful that he’s only just meeting Tsukishima now.

How many times could their paths have crossed before this? In high school, when they played volleyball. In college, through their mutual friends. But it’s not like Tsukishima ever had any reason to accompany Akaashi whenever he went to visit his boyfriend at his college.

Still. Out of all the opportunities for them to meet, it’s happening here, in an airport in San Francisco, California, thousands of miles from home.

“You wouldn’t have liked me back then anyway,” Tsukishima says, because that’s an easier response than what he’s actually thinking.

“Please, I’m sure you were fine.”

Tsukishima shakes his head. “I was terrible back then.”

“What, and you think I’ve always been this perfect?” Kuroo smirks, and Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Seriously, I bet I would’ve liked you back then, too.”

“You barely even know me,” Tsukishima says. “How do you know you like me now?”

“Okay, fine,” Kuroo says. “I have time. I have all day.” He makes a show of shifting around, getting comfortable in his hard plastic seat. “You mentioned you like reading? Let me _evaluate our compatibility_ based on the books you read.”

Tsukishima snorts at Kuroo’s dramatics, but he finds himself drawn into a discussion about books anyway. He usually takes recommendations from his friends, so he reads across genres, and when Kuroo hears this, he immediately lists all his favorites and makes Tsukishima note down the ones he hasn’t read on his phone. It turns out Kuroo reads _a lot_ —where he finds the time, Tsukishima doesn’t know—but Tsukishima manages to recommend some more obscure books to him in return.

They talk about books they both like and dislike, or disagree about, and Tsukishima fast learns that Kuroo is a gigantic, unapologetic romantic sap. Tsukishima is a closet sap, and he fears Kuroo might have guessed as much at some point.

The conversation eventually turns to other topics, and Tsukishima gradually finds himself voicing more and more of his thoughts instead of keeping them to himself. There’s hardly a lull—everything he says seems to encourage Kuroo to talk even more, and he always has three anecdotes for every one of Tsukishima’s. But Tsukishima actually kind of likes listening to Kuroo talk, so he doesn’t mind.

Tsukishima doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the vague hunger that has been nagging him finally surfaces in the form of a loud growl. Tsukishima glares down at his stomach in betrayal, and Kuroo smiles at him.

“Hungry?” Kuroo asks. “Want to grab some lunch?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, checking the time on his phone. “What the hell, it’s almost two.”

“Time flies,” Kuroo says, standing up and stretching. “D’you want to stay here and watch our stuff? I can bring something back.”

“I can go,” Tsukishima says, moving to stand up, but Kuroo pushes him back down, hand firm on his shoulder.

“It’s cool. This way we don’t lose our seats, or have to drag our carry-ons around. Do you want anything specific?”

“Anything’s fine,” Tsukishima says. “Thanks.”

Kuroo squeezes his shoulder. “No problem. See you in a bit.”

Tsukishima watches him go, rubbing his shoulder where Kuroo touched him. He wasn’t expecting the casual physical contact. As he stands and stretches out his limbs, he tells himself he won’t get hung up on the little gesture, but he still feels the weight of Kuroo’s hand when he sits back down.

To distract himself, he checks the time again. This is surreal. They’ve got about four hours to go. Tsukishima’s throat is dry from all the talking he’s done the past few hours, and he didn’t even notice it until now.

He’ll definitely have to email Akaashi later— _you’ll never guess who I met at the San Francisco airport. It really is a small world._

He’s already imagining the conversation with Yamaguchi, too.

_How was your business trip?_

_Boring, but at the airport—_

_Akiteru told me your flight was delayed._ (Because of course Akiteru would have told him.)

_Yeah, and I met this guy—_

Something twists in his stomach, then. Is that all Kuroo’s going to be, after today? Just a story to tell?

Surely they’ll see each other again. They have mutual friends.

 _Yeah,_ Tsukishima thinks. _Mutual friends. Akaashi’s boyfriend, whom I’ve never even met._

He doesn’t want Kuroo to just be a story to tell his friends about later. When Tsukishima realizes this, he’s forced to accept that he maybe likes Kuroo.

As a friend? Something else?

 _He thinks you’re cute_ , Tsukishima’s brain helpfully reminds him, and he stares at his lap and feels his face turn red.

He wants to get to know Kuroo better. That much he knows. For a moment, he actually feels thankful that they’re stuck in the airport all day. It’s still a shitty situation, but it doesn’t feel so unlucky.

“I’m back,” Kuroo says, and Tsukishima looks up, “and I have chicken strips and fries.”

Kuroo holds up a brown paper bag. He has a soda cup in his other hand and is carefully holding another cup between his arm and body.

Tsukishima takes the bag from Kuroo, setting it on his lap, and Kuroo takes the second cup in his now-free hand, saying, “I also didn’t know if you like soda, so I got Coke and water.”

Tsukishima could do with a soda, but he’d feel bad for being an ass after Kuroo’s been thoughtful, and so he asks for the water.

“How much was it?” Tsukishima asks, about to reach for his wallet, but Kuroo waves his hand at him, reclaiming his seat beside him.

“It was only a few bucks. Don’t sweat it.” He sticks his hand into the bag and pulls out a hamburger. “Not the greatest meal for a first date, I know, but what can you do?”

Tsukishima wants to ask Kuroo if he means it, but he can’t bring himself to. For now, it’s easier to just play along. He takes the box of chicken strips from the bag, noticing that Kuroo also got both ranch and barbecue sauce. He goes for the ranch, then looks up at Kuroo and says, “These conditions in general aren’t great for a first date.”

Kuroo meets his eyes. “I know,” he says, sounding regretful. “Maybe you can let me make up for it another time?”

“You’re actually serious about this,” Tsukishima says.

“Do I seem like the type to joke about this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, maybe,” Kuroo concedes. “But not with someone I just met.”

Tsukishima thinks he can believe that.

“Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

“You can make up for it another time,” Tsukishima says.

Kuroo beams at him and Tsukishima offers a tentative smile back, still feeling unsettled in his gut. This is the vaguest of promises, and he’s annoyed at himself for already feeling a little disappointed knowing that they probably won’t ever follow through, especially because he’s only known Kuroo for a few hours. He has no idea why he’s so drawn to him. Tsukishima rarely gets crushes in the first place, never mind on strangers.

But Kuroo doesn’t feel like a stranger. Not anymore.

“What’s up?” Kuroo asks.

“What?”

“You made a weird face.”

“I just—it’s kind of ridiculous, isn’t it?” Tsukishima asks. “All these coincidences. They’re almost too perfect, given that we’re two strangers meeting in an airport in America. It’s almost unnerving.”

Maybe unnerving isn’t the right word, but Tsukishima doesn’t know how else to explain the pit in his stomach, the tug in the back of his mind. He feels foolish, though, when Kuroo chuckles.

“No—sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you,” Kuroo says. “Just—unnerving? For me, it feels like everything’s aligning.”

“Aligning,” Tsukishima repeats.

“Maybe we were meant to meet before,” Kuroo says. “Maybe the universe is fixing itself right now, putting us in this airport together, to catch up on the—what, ten years, maybe? That we could have known each other.”

“You don’t really believe that,” Tsukishima says, but he feels his heart rate pick up despite himself. What _if_ he had known Kuroo since high school? Or maybe college?

He doesn’t want to dwell on _what if_ ’s and _could have been_ ’s, though. That’s a dark path, and they don’t change anything. Kuroo is here, in front of him, now. That’s what matters.

“I don’t know,” Kuroo says. “Do you believe in soulmates?”

“Not really.”

Kuroo leans toward him. “What about love at first sight?”

“Even less.”

Kuroo leans closer, and Tsukishima thinks he might stop breathing.

His face is so close to Tsukishima’s. His lips part to draw a breath, and he says, “Should I walk by again?”

Tsukishima pushes his face away, and he can feel Kuroo smiling against the palm of his hand. “Oh, my God. You’re so ridiculous.”

He gets his own smile under control before removing his hand from Kuroo’s face.

“Wait, would you have actually let me kiss you just now?” Kuroo asks.

Tsukishima smirks. “I guess you’ll never know.”

“Fuck, I fucked up. Let me have a redo.”

“Sorry, too late now,” Tsukishima says, finally digging into his chicken strips. He licks his fingers after he finishes the first piece, watching to see how Kuroo reacts.

Kuroo whines in his throat. “You’re a _tease_.”

“I’m just eating my lunch,” Tsukishima says, nonchalant, and smirks when Kuroo grumbles into his burger. He supposes this means Kuroo’s sexually attracted to him. He wonders if he should tell Kuroo he’s demisexual. He wonders if Kuroo would care.

But he doesn’t bring it up, and they don’t really talk for the rest of the time they eat. This is fine by Tsukishima, since he doesn’t like talking or seeing people talking with their mouths full. Plus, he’s still thinking about what Kuroo said about feeling like—like the universe was aligning (or maybe moving back into place would be more accurate for how he described it), which is quite possibly the sappiest line Tsukishima has ever heard in his life. Kuroo seems to be good at those.

He remembers thinking earlier that Kuroo seemed to fit right into his life somehow, and now he doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know what to believe. The idea of fate seems too big, but coincidence is too frightening in how random it is when he thinks about how easily they might _not_ have met.

He’s known Kuroo for less than six hours, and he’s already scared to imagine they might not have met. He’s glad he knows Kuroo, and he wants to keep knowing him. He doesn’t want it to end.

But this is too heavy to think about when sitting in an uncomfortable airport seat eating fast food, or that’s the excuse Tsukishima gives to allow himself to turn his thoughts to work and distract himself with that until he finishes his lunch.

“I think I need a nap,” Kuroo announces after he’s thrown his trash away and poured far more hand sanitizer than would ever be necessary onto his open palm.

“I won’t stop you,” Tsukishima says, accepting the travel-sized bottle of sanitizer from Kuroo and squeezing out a much more acceptable amount.

“Okay,” Kuroo says. “Don’t…disappear or anything while I sleep, okay?”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Where would I go? I’m stuck here, same as you.”

“I know.” Kuroo eyes him. “I still want to talk to you. Get to know you. I just also want my post-lunch nap.”

“Go to sleep, then,” Tsukishima says. “I promise I’ll still be in this shitty excuse for a chair when you wake up.” He has to ruin the cliché line, because he’s not sure he would have been able to say it otherwise.

“Romantic,” Kuroo mutters, but his eyes are already fluttering shut as he leans back in his seat, arms crossed loosely, chin dropping to his chest.

 _There’s no way that’s comfortable_ , Tsukishima thinks, watching him, and finds himself staring until Kuroo’s breathing evens out and deepens mere minutes later, and then for a few minutes more after that before he catches himself.

He finishes his water, still feeling parched and still not quite believing how much Kuroo’s gotten him to open up and talk.

Kuroo is messing with Tsukishima’s head, and Tsukishima needs to stop thinking about him and them, so he pulls out the book Akaashi recommended and opens it up so he can get lost in a mind that isn’t his own.

He reads for a couple hours, he thinks—he’s not really keeping an eye on the time, absorbed in the book, but when he looks up it’s dark outside the windows—before becoming aware that he really, really has to pee.

Right—he had coffee, and all that water. Tsukishima looks at Kuroo, who is still fast asleep, pink lips parted slightly as he breathes through his mouth, and he can’t bring himself to wake him.

With a sigh, Tsukishima sets his book down and asks someone sitting nearby to watch their stuff while he goes to the restroom. He doesn’t really see the point, since they’ll probably go back to their phone as soon as Tsukishima leaves, and he doesn’t think anyone would bother to steal anything, but he figured he should ask anyway.

When he gets back, Kuroo is awake, though his eyes still look heavy with drowsiness.

“Hey,” Kuroo says, blinking up at him, his voice quiet and playful. “What happened to promising to still be here?”

“I had to use the restroom,” Tsukishima says unapologetically, reclaiming his seat.

“You left me all by myself,” Kuroo says with a pout.

“If you want me to believe you were actually worried, it’s not going to happen.”

“Of course I wasn’t worried,” Kuroo says, dropping the wounded puppy act. “You left your suitcase. How long was I asleep?”

Tsukishima checks his phone. “Almost three hours. It’s almost 5:30.”

Kuroo cringes. “I was aiming for ninety minutes.”

“Well, you definitely missed the mark there,” Tsukishima snorts.

“I should’ve known better, I’m always a victim of accidental four-hour naps.”

“At least it was only three this time,” Tsukishima says. “Especially because we should be boarding soon.”

“Ugh, and I’m going to be totally out on the plane, too,” Kuroo says.

Tsukishima stares. “You literally just slept for three hours.”

He’s trying not to feel betrayed, because it’s not like Kuroo owes him anything, but he’d made good progress on his book these past three hours, and the rest of it isn’t going to last him the entire eleven hour flight. But even that’s an excuse to himself, because he doesn’t want to read the whole flight, and he doesn’t want to talk to Kuroo the whole eleven hours either. He just wants his company, preferably conscious.

Kuroo shrugs, looking guilty. “Something about the motion of planes just puts me right out. Can’t help it.”

“But it’s so loud.”

“Sorry, but are you implying that you’re not going to sleep at all on an eleven hour flight?” Kuroo asks. “We’re not even leaving in the morning anymore.”

“At least my sleep schedule won’t be fucked up when we’re back in Japan,” Tsukishima points out. “We’re going to be arriving at ten at night.”

“Yeah, but—you’ll have been awake for over twenty hours.” Kuroo furrows his brows at him, looking so concerned that Tsukishima doesn’t know whether to feel bad or annoyed.

“It’s not like I’ve never done it before,” Tsukishima says. “Anyway, I’ll probably be able to get a couple hours in, when I get tired enough. It’s just not very comfortable, either.”

“You’re so high-maintenance,” Kuroo teases, but there’s still that worried crease in his brows.

“I’ll be fine,” Tsukishima sighs. “Honestly. Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Kuroo says, not seeming very convinced, but before he can say anything else, a voice announces that boarding is beginning for their flight.

Tsukishima’s in the boarding group before Kuroo’s, so he stands up and hesitates with his hand on his carry-on.

“So…see you on the plane?” He hates the way his voice goes higher at the end, making it a question. But it sort of is a question.

Kuroo just grins crookedly at him. “Of course.”

Tsukishima nods at him, then shuffles along in his line to board. Eleven-hour flight. Eleven more hours with Kuroo.

Why is he measuring it like that? He wants to forget Kuroo. He wants to go back to that morning and brush Kuroo off before he got a chance to insert himself into Tsukishima’s life. But just as strongly as he feels that, he also wants to hold on to Kuroo and not let go. The prospect that they so easily might not have met hits him again, and it feels like vertigo.

Tsukishima hands his ticket in and boards the plane. He finds an empty row in the middle of the plane, takes the window seat, and debates with himself for thirty seconds before taking off his jacket and putting it on the seat next to his. He stares out the window even though it’s dark out, watching the other passengers board out of the corner of his eye.

He spots Kuroo boarding a few minutes later and watches without turning his head as Kuroo walks slowly down the aisle. His face lights up when he spots Tsukishima, and Tsukishima feels his heart skip a beat.

“Hey, stranger,” Kuroo says, leaning toward him. “Is this seat taken?”

Tsukishima’s face warms and he pulls his jacket onto his lap. “Stop blocking the aisle.”

Kuroo pushes his carry-on into the overhead compartment and slides into the seat beside Tsukishima.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and apologize in advance because I’m definitely gonna fall asleep on you.”

“It’s your loss,” Tsukishima says with a shrug.

Kuroo frowns. “I know.”

Kuroo has really got to stop sounding so sincere when he says stuff like that. Tsukishima’s not sure he can take much more of it.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tsukishima sighs, putting on his seatbelt and switching his phone is to airplane mode. “It’s not like I mind.” Much.

“Well,” Kuroo says as he follows suit, “now I’m a little hurt that you don’t care what I do.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Kuroo smiles at him, and Tsukishima gets the feeling that Kuroo just made him say that. Damn it.

They’re quiet. Tsukishima doesn’t know if they’ve exhausted all their conversational topics for now, but it’s not a bad silence. Honestly, he’s talked to Kuroo enough, and right now he wants to just sit quietly with him, but he didn’t know how to ask, so this is nice. He just wishes Kuroo would stop looking at him with that soft smile on his face. Tsukishima wants to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. He just stares at Kuroo, breaths coming a little faster, and wonders if Kuroo’s going to try and kiss him again.

There’s a loud rumbling sound, and the plane pulls away from its gate. Startled, Tsukishima leans back into his seat and finally breaks eye contact with Kuroo to stare out the window instead.

When they’re on the runway, Kuroo asks, “You wouldn’t happen to be afraid of flying, would you?”

Tsukishima glances at him. Kuroo’s smiling, but he looks a little nervous despite that.

“No,” Tsukishima says. “Why, are you?” He wouldn’t have thought so, considering he apparently sleeps through most of his flights, but he supposes one can never really tell.

“No,” Kuroo says. “I was just hoping for an excuse to hold your hand.”

Shit. Tsukishima feels himself blush. He grabs Kuroo’s hand and turns away again as they ascend. “You don’t need an excuse for something like that.”

Kuroo gasps. “Tsukki!”

“Don’t call me that,” Tsukishima stutters. Only his high school friends call him that, and he still regrets (or at least pretends to regret) not resisting harder when Hinata first picked it up from Yamaguchi.

Kuroo twists his hand in Tsukishima’s so he can lace their fingers together. “Can I call you Kei, then?”

For some reason, it’s that question that makes Tsukishima think these past hours have all been too fast.

“I’m demisexual,” he blurts, and wants to disappear immediately after he says it.

He tries to pull his hand away from Kuroo, but Kuroo’s hand tightens in his. He pulls harder, and this time Kuroo lets him go.

“Thank you for telling me,” Kuroo says, cautious.

“I’ve never told anyone before,” Tsukishima says. “Well, I told Yamaguchi before I knew what I was. And he had me talk to Kageyama and Hinata because they’re asexual, but. No one else.”

He still remembers being in high school and feeling scared he was broken and spilling his fears to Yamaguchi, the only person he could call a friend at the time. Tsukishima was getting on better with Kageyama and Hinata as teammates by that point, but they hadn’t yet reached the point of friendship, which is why he was surprised when they were willing to talk frankly with him about their sexualities—or perhaps lack of. Neither of them had a name for it; neither of them cared. That was fine for them, but Tsukishima really wanted a name to put on this thing that set him apart from other people.

It was Kageyama who found the term ‘asexual,’ and, when Tsukishima realized in college that he did feel sexual attraction sometimes, Kageyama was the one who suggested ‘gray-asexual’ or ‘demisexual.’

Tsukishima’s always felt a little indebted to Kageyama for bringing him that peace of mind. Maybe that’s why he was able to forgive the whole puking on him ordeal.

The main cabin lights go off, and Kuroo reaches up to turn on the personal one above them.

“Thank you,” Kuroo says again. “For trusting me.”

There’s a brief silence in which neither of them say anything, and then Kuroo asks, “Are you going to look at me again in the next eleven hours?”

Tsukishima forces himself to turn to Kuroo. Kuroo is leaning slightly toward him, but he moves back when Tsukishima faces him.

“I’m okay with it,” Kuroo says. “If you were worried. I mean—you’re interested in me romantically, right? Or have I been reading everything completely wrong?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima says. “I think I am.” When there’s no sexual attraction accompanying it, he’s always had trouble knowing if he has a crush but he thinks he really, _really_ likes Kuroo.

A slow, easy smile spreads across Kuroo’s face. “Then there’s no problem, right?”

Tsukishima thinks Kuroo is taking all of this way too easily. There’s more to it than that.

“But sometimes I never feel sexually attracted to people I’m romantically interested in. Sometimes I don’t know if I’m gray-asexual or demisexual. Or maybe what I’ve thought were crushes in the past weren’t really crushes. In high school, it was okay. I was just asexual. I never liked anyone. But then in college.” Tsukishima grits his teeth. Kuroo may have gotten him to open up about a lot of things, but he’s not about to spill the whole history of his love life, even if there isn’t much to tell.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Kuroo soothes. “You don’t have to fit a label perfectly. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know,” Tsukishima says, bristling a bit. He’s told himself that more times than Kuroo will ever know. “I’m just warning you. I like sex fine, but only if I’m attracted to the person I’m having sex with. And I haven’t had all that much relationship experience, anyway.”

“Well, I could guess the latter,” Kuroo says. Tsukishima frowns, and he hastens to add, “Not for any bad reasons! I’ve only dated a few people myself, so I don’t think it’s a bad thing. It’s just because you have such a close-knit friend group, mostly from high school, and it doesn’t seem like you’re very willing to expand it…”

Tsukishima doesn’t like the way he trails off at the end.

“I’m,” he says, “possibly willing to include you in that.”

Kuroo smiles that broad smile of his. “I’m okay if you never want to have sex with me. Really. I don’t like you _just_ for your body.”

Well, that’s what Kuroo thinks now, but Tsukishima wonders if he’ll be saying the same thing if months pass and Tsukishima never feels sexually attracted to Kuroo.

He feels mean for thinking it and just says, “Sorry for making things complicated.”

“Don’t apologize for being who you are,” Kuroo says.

Tsukishima cracks a weak smile. “Complicated?”

“Complex,” Kuroo says. “Human.”

Tsukishima stares at his lap, but looks up again when Kuroo lets out a huge yawn.

“Agh, sorry. To be honest, I’ve been feeling drowsy ever since we took off,” Kuroo says, the last word stretched out into another yawn.

“Please go to sleep,” Tsukishima says. “Don’t let me keep you up.”

“But I had to convince you not to underestimate how romantic I am,” Kuroo says. “I mean, if you don’t want to go out with me because of something about me, fine, but I won’t let you give up on us if it’s just you giving up on yourself. You should have better self-esteem than that.” He pauses. “Of course, I have a personal interest in the matter, so I may be biased.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“No ‘please’ this time,” Kuroo observes. “Will you let me use your shoulder as a pillow?”

“I—sure. Wait.” Tsukishima pushes up the armrest between their seats. “Okay.”

Kuroo unbuckles his seatbelt and inches a bit closer. He rests his head on Tsukishima’s shoulder.

“You never answered my question,” Kuroo murmurs.

“What?”

“If I could call you Kei.”

Tsukishima swallows. “Just—Tsukishima. For now,” he says. “Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Kuroo says. “Stop thinking. At least while I can’t tell you why you’re wrong.”

“I’m not always wrong,” Tsukishima says.

“Good night, Tsukishima,” Kuroo says.

Tsukishima sighs and turns off the overhead light before resting his cheek lightly against Kuroo’s hair. Despite how much it sticks up everywhere, it’s soft, which means he doesn’t gel it up, which means it really is just appalling bedhead, which Kuroo told him earlier but Tsukishima declined to test. Kuroo is warm pressed up against him, and Tsukishima feels strangely tender and gentle. He takes Kuroo’s hand again, and Kuroo’s fingers curl around his.

 ‘I won’t let you give up on us if it’s just you giving up on yourself’? If Kuroo keeps those lines up, Tsukishima’s face might turn permanently red. But he has to admit that Kuroo is right. Tsukishima isn’t reluctant because of Kuroo; he’s reluctant because of himself. Fear of fucking up has always been enough to dissuade him in the past, but apparently that’s not a good enough reason for Kuroo.

Kuroo also told him to stop thinking about this when he can’t respond. This will be a very long flight if he doesn’t sleep at all and Kuroo is very warm and comfortable right now, and so Tsukishima lets out a slow breath, cautious not to move his body too much, and lets his eyes slip shut.

When Tsukishima opens his eyes again, he’s leaning against the side of the plane and Kuroo is draped over him, fast asleep. It’s as dark outside as when they left, but since they’re flying across the world, that doesn’t really mean anything.

“Hey,” Tsukishima whispers. Kuroo doesn’t stir.

Tsukishima sits up, carefully rearranging Kuroo so most of his upper body is resting on his lap.

He squints at his watch. He got a bit more sleep than he usually does on flights, and he can’t help but wonder if that has anything to do with the warm presence currently asleep on him.

Kuroo is asleep so soundly that Tsukishima can’t help but huff a little in amusement as he smiles fondly down at him. He rests one hand lightly on Kuroo’s side and the other on his armrest so he can prop his chin on his hand. He’s probably going to be stuck like this for a while, but that’s okay. He brought a book with the intention of reading it, but the truth is he can rarely find the concentration to do anything on flights. The motion of planes doesn’t put him to sleep like Kuroo, but it does relax him, and he usually passes most of the time on his flights gazing out the window, just thinking, or, more often, not thinking.

Now he looks down at Kuroo and sits upright so he can use the hand he was resting on to instead card through Kuroo’s soft hair. He runs his fingers through the dark strands and watches the gentle rise and fall of Kuroo’s chest and feels at peace.

It’s an interminable amount of time later that Kuroo stirs, and the first thing he does is murmur, “S’it too soon to propose?”

“What,” Tsukishima says.

Kuroo tilts his head against Tsukishima’s hand, which is still running absently through his hair. “I’d love to wake up to this every morning.”

“Oh, get off me,” Tsukishima says, pulling his hand away. “My legs are numb.”

Kuroo sits up and turns on the overhead light. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Tsukishima dismisses. He realizes how cold he probably sounds, and adds, “I didn’t—I liked it.”

“Even though I made your legs numb?”

“Yes,” Tsukishima grits out. “Even so.”

Kuroo grins, that blinding full grin, and Tsukishima turns to grab his bag from under his seat. “Well, since I can actually move now, I’m going to read my book.”

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Kuroo says, and Tsukishima’s stomach falls a little when he realizes the smile has disappeared from his face.

“Don’t,” he says. “I said I liked it. I can’t believe you made me say it again.”

“I appreciate it,” Kuroo reassures.

“Whatever.” Tsukishima flips through his book and finds his page.

He didn’t intend to be mean. He only ever forces himself to read so he can feel productive anyway. But he can’t tell Kuroo that he’s honestly sort of breathless to look at. Tsukishima’s not the sort to be able to say such cheesy lines, although it seems like Kuroo’s great at that.

Besides that, he still feels all talked out from their time in the airport. But it would probably be rude to sit next to Kuroo and just stare out the window and not talk, so he forces himself to read instead.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks after a bit.

“Pardon?”

“You’ve been on the same page for the past five minutes.”

“You’ve been watching?” Tsukishima asks, blushing.

“Well, what else would I be doing?”

He blushes harder and closes his book. “I can never really concentrate on anything on flights,” he confesses. “Usually I just sit and think. Or don’t think.”

He’s a little worried about what talkative outgoing Kuroo might think of the way he just sits quietly for hours not doing anything, not even really thinking about anything much of the time, but Kuroo just says, “That’s cool. I’m glad you’re able to relax,” and the answer just seems so _Kuroo_ that Tsukishima isn’t sure why he worried in the first place.

“But—so you don’t mind if we just sit here quietly?”

“I don’t mind,” Kuroo says. “Can we hold hands again?”

In response, Tsukishima turns his palm up silently, and Kuroo seizes his hand, humming to himself as if in victory.

Tsukishima turns and looks out the window for a while and the only thing he’s really aware of anymore is the weight of Kuroo’s hand in his own. There isn’t much to see, though, so he faces forward again and closes his eyes.

“Are you sleeping?” Kuroo whispers.

“No,” Tsukishima whispers back. “I’m relaxing.”

Kuroo leaves it at that for another few minutes, and then asks, “Do you want to listen to music?”

Tsukishima opens his eyes. “That’s what I usually do,” he says, “but I thought it might be rude.”

“Well, we can both listen,” Kuroo says.

“But I only have one pair of headphones and no split jack,” Tsukishima says.

Kuroo reaches into his hoodie pocket with his free hand and pulls out a pair of earphones. “Earphones. Convenient, right?”

“Fair enough,” Tsukishima concedes. “Then let’s listen to your music. I want to see what kind of music you listen to.”

“Sure,” Kuroo says, letting go of Tsukishima so he can plug in his earphones and hand Tsukishima one of the buds. “Let me just pick a playlist.”

The first song Kuroo plays is _Kiss Me_ , and Tsukishima arches an eyebrow at Kuroo, who just shrugs and says, “Hey, I don’t know, it’s on shuffle.”

But the next song ( _Be Still My Heart_ ) is just as sappy, and the next, and Tsukishima realizes that they’re all probably going to be sappy. But they’re also quiet and pleasant to listen to, so Tsukishima closes his eyes again. Kuroo’s hand finds his again. Tsukishima has never held hands so much, but he finds he doesn’t mind, and so they spend the rest of the flight like that, just relaxing and holding hands and listening to music together.

He’s almost sad when they land, even though it’s been upwards of three hours of sappy love songs and holding hands.

And Kuroo insists on still holding Tsukishima’s hands after they dismount and head for the baggage claim.

“I think that’s the most relaxed I’ve been all vacation,” Kuroo says.

“Aren’t the point of vacations to relax?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says with a small grimace. “I feel like my friends and I were always doing something. Which, don’t get me wrong, I love going out and doing stuff. But I forgot how much I also like to just…sit quietly and relax. We should do it again sometime.”

“You could do that easily enough by yourself,” Tsukishima points out. “More easily, even.”

“Yeah.” Kuroo flashes him a smile. “But it’s better with someone else.”

This time Tsukishima’s excuse to turn away from Kuroo’s grin, which he’s becoming progressively weaker to, is to look for his luggage.

He’s feeling increasingly more awkward because he knows they have to part ways soon and all he can think is, _Not yet. I don’t want to say goodbye yet_ , which is both too cheesy to think and ridiculous because they’ve just spent twenty hours together. Tsukishima has never spent so long in the company of someone he wasn’t living with. Training camps in high school don’t count.

But after they’ve both got their suitcases, there’s nothing left for Tsukishima to say except, “My brother should already be waiting for me outside.”

“Alright,” Kuroo says. He leans forward a little. “So, do you not kiss on the first date?”

“I think, given the circumstances, I can allow it this time,” Tsukishima says. He’s probably smiling.

Kuroo lets go of his luggage so he can cup Tsukishima’s cheeks with both hands as he stretches up the short distance between them to kiss him.

It’s warm. It feels exactly like Kuroo, which is ridiculous because it’s just a pair of lips and he doesn’t really taste like anything specific, but after they kiss, lips making a soft smacking sound that fills Tsukishima’s ears, Kuroo lingers and Tsukishima can feel his lips curl as they smile against his own mouth.

Tsukishima doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he reaches them up to take Kuroo’s hands, because that’s what they’ve been doing all day, holding hands. Kuroo lets him, lets their arms drop down between them, then leans in and noses Tsukishima’s cheek where his thumb just was, pressing a soft kiss there before returning to his lips.

When Kuroo finally steps back, still leaving their hands clasped between them, it feels cold.

“Thank you,” Kuroo says.

Tsukishima can’t parse why Kuroo is thanking him. He can’t parse much at all. His heart is pounding.

“Yeah,” he says. “My brother—”

“You have to go,” Kuroo says. He lets go. “So this is goodbye.”

“For now,” Tsukishima says. He makes an aborted motion toward Kuroo, not sure what he was planning to do. Kiss him goodbye? But they just did that. Hug him?

He takes his suitcases in either hand.

“Goodbye, Kuroo.”

“Bye, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima forces himself not to look back as he exits the airport.

Akiteru is waiting for him right outside the terminal.

“Hey, Kei!” he greets after Tsukishima’s stowed his luggage and made his way to the passenger seat.

“Hey,” he acknowledges quietly.

“How was the flight?” Akiteru asks.

“Fine,” Tsukishima answers on autopilot before realizing that his default answer isn’t appropriate this time. It was better than fine. It was good.

“It sucks that it was delayed for so long, though,” Akiteru says. “That’s such an inconvenience.”

“Yeah,” Tsukishima says, but all he can think is that it didn’t suck at all. He’s glad it happened.

“What have I told you about one-word answers?” Akiteru sighs.

Tsukishima makes a noncommittal sound in response just to spite him.

Kuroo also got on his case about his curt responses. Tsukishima wants to tell Akiteru about Kuroo, because he has a feeling they would get along, but it takes a few minutes to muster up the courage. Luckily, Akiteru doesn’t prod him any further.

“I met someone,” he starts, finally, and that’s when he realizes.

 _I didn’t get his number_ , Tsukishima thinks, panicked. There is no way he’s asking Akiteru to turn around and drive them back to the airport. He wouldn’t be able to find Kuroo in the crowd, anyway. Fuck, _fuck_. How could he forget something so simple?

Is Kuroo doomed to become just a story after all? _I met someone._

Or maybe Kuroo didn’t ask for his number on purpose. The perfect meeting, the perfect kiss, the perfect one-day cliché, just the way Kuroo likes it. No room to spoil the experience with the mess that comes with an actual relationship.

The idea leaves a hard pit in Tsukishima’s stomach. Maybe, for all its downfalls, today was perfect. But even so. Even so, Tsukishima can’t just _leave_ it at that.

_Do you believe in soulmates?_

_What about love at first sight?_

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. Love, soulmates, the universe aligning, hell if Tsukishima knows about any of that. He doesn’t even know how serious Kuroo was being when he talked about that. He just knows he doesn’t want to let Kuroo go. He doesn’t want to lose this before it even begins.

“Akiteru,” he says. They’re going to turn this car around. Tsukishima is going to fucking make someone call for Kuroo Tetsurou over the PA if he has to, he has a Tsukishima Kei looking for him who’d really like to see him—Kuroo would probably love that, anyway.

“Yeah?” Akiteru asks.

Tsukishima’s cell phone rings, and he glares at it. “Turn back to the airport,” he tells Akiteru, and hits answer on his phone. “Hello?”

“Did you forget something?” Akiteru asks.

“Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima sits up straight in his seat, ignoring his brother. “Kuroo?” He taps Akiteru’s arm and mouths ‘never mind’ at him, shaking his head at his questioning look.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says, breathing heavily into the phone. “I realized I didn’t get your number, so I called Bokuto, who called Akaashi, who gave Bokuto your number, who called me and gave me your number. And now here I am. Calling you.”

“Jesus, you work fast,” Tsukishima says. “It’s been maybe ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well, the alternative was chasing down your car, and I didn’t want to do that. Well—fine, I started to do that, then I realized there was probably a better way to go about it.”

“I should’ve known you’d be too much of a romantic to just give up on me,” Tsukishima says, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how relieved he feels.

“Wait, what?” Kuroo asks, still sounding winded.

“Never mind. I was about to have my brother turn the car around,” Tsukishima confesses.

“You were?” Kuroo is definitely smiling.

“Yeah, I—” _Panicked._ “I want to see you again.”

“Right now?”

He’s teasing, and Tsukishima’s scowls, aware that Akiteru is listening attentively to his side of the conversation.

“You know what I meant,” he says.

“Yeah, okay,” Kuroo says. “Me, too. Can I treat you to a proper lunch soon?”

“I can pay for myself.”

“Is this going to be our first fight?”

“We’re not even fighting,” Tsukishima says.

“I just feel like we’re both going to be stubborn about this.”

“I’m sure we can reach a compromise,” Tsukishima says.

Their conversation is ridiculous, and by the way they both fall silent, Tsukishima knows they were both just reluctant to say goodbye again so soon.

They both linger quietly, just breathing into their phones, until finally Kuroo says, “I’m glad I approached you this morning. Yesterday morning?”

“I’m glad you did, too.” Tsukishima’s voice shakes a little as he says it and he hopes Kuroo mistakes it for a laugh.

“Even if I didn’t, I bet we would have met eventually anyway. We were meant to be,” Kuroo says. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tsukishima says, putting as much skepticism in his voice as he can to hide that what he’s really thinking is, _Maybe._

Besides, how much less scary does that make their chance meeting if he can believe that they were bound to meet eventually, anyway?

Still, meant to be or not, fate or chance— “I’m glad it was now and not later.”

Kuroo’s voice is warm and feels like it belongs. “Me, too.”


End file.
